Mitzi Mensch - The Dangers of Kissing and Diet Coke: What Your Doctor Doesnt Know and Wont Bother to Find Out

The Dangers of
Kissing and Diet Coke

What Your Doctor Doesnt Know and
Wont Bother to Find Out

Mitzi Mensch

AuthorHouse LLC

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: 1-800-839-8640

2013, 2014 by Mitzi Mensch. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/11/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1414-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1413-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013916095

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

I bet you bought this book because youre wondering whats dangerous about kissing and Diet Coke. Or maybe youre curious about what your doctor doesnt know. All of this will be made manifest, but first Id like to tell you a little something about myself.

I am not a medical professional. I do not have any medical training whatsoever. I have a very old two year Associate in Arts degree in General Studies which qualifies me for nothing. I like to read and write so I took literature classes and creative writing.

This book is just about me. I can only relate what happened to me. Im not saying that my strange neurological problems apply to anyone else. The conditions which affect me are mine, owned by me, and unfortunately, have become part of me. I am no expert. I have tried many medications, both over-the-counter and prescription. These may be excellent drugs for other people, people with normal brain activity; however, they have not worked for me. My brain seems to be wired differently. Drugs affect different people differently. I seem to be quite different. As for what I have ingested and the presumed neurological effect, let me say that some people have allergies to certain substances and foods, such as gluten and peanuts, while other people can digest them with no problem. What I write about cause and effect on my brain function is all based on postulation, gleaned from my personal experience and what I have read. I have simply learned what I have learned along the way in an effort to try and live my life in a normal and pain-free manner. I have had to do my research on my own because doctors have been no help. All I can say is Im glad the Internet was invented.

As I begin this I am sixty-six years old, but I must say that people never take me for it. They say I look younger. I do color my hair medium brown which naturally at this point is snow white, but other than that I dont do anything special. Although I dont see anything wrong with improving your appearance any way you can, I have not had a face lift and I have never had any fillers injected into my laugh lines. I exercise regularly, lots of walking, mostly on the beach because I live in Hawai`i as I have for most of my adult life, so how could I not walk the beach, and I swim, again because the ocean water is just delightful. I do love the outdoors so I hike in our beautiful volcanic mountains and swim in clear bracing pools in streams beneath waterfalls. I belong to the Y where I use the exercise equipment and the pool. All this is to say that I live a healthy life style. I havent smoked since the sixties when I was a teenager and everybody did it, back when cigarettes were advertised on television and before warning labels were on packages. I will have a drink when the occasion calls for it, but that is rare. I havent eaten a mammal since 1997. I am slim because my diet is mostly salads or brown rice with tofu and stir-fried veggies on top. My only vice has been my lunchtime Diet Coke.

I am just me, no one special. So now that I have offered this disclaimer I will tell my story.

CHAPTER ONE

HOW IT ALL BEGAN

In the fall of 1999, just after falling asleep one night, I was awakened by the sound of a cat howling outside. I drifted back to sleep, only to be awakened by the same cat, the same howling. The third time the noise woke me I realized it was coming from me!

These vocalizations continued three or four nights a week. They were animal sounds, not sounds that would ever come from a human being, certainly not from me. There was quite a variety of sounds, sometimes howls, as originally, sometimes growls. Sometimes the noises would be very high-pitched, screams or screeches. Sometimes they would be quite low, guttural and groaning. They were usually long and drawn out. They were always loud, very, very loud. They were so intense they hurt my throat at times, I tasted blood. But sometimes they were short sounds, barks and yips. There was one unique vocalization that spiraled upwardly. I pictured it like a cyclone. There was quite a cacophony going on in my bedroom just as I would enter into sleep.

Shortly after the noises began they were accompanied by major motor movements, and I mean major. My arms flailed around up into the air, hands flopping, loose at the wrists. My upper body jerked up off the bed, head, neck, shoulders pushed suddenly and with lightning speed from behind by an unseen powerful force. Startled awake at a sharp angle, a jackknife snapped open, thats how I found myself without warning. The sounds and the movements sometimes were simultaneous, sometimes separate. I was doing a lot of weird things, and instead of three or four nights a week, it became nightly.

I lived alone, except for my dog, Sunshine. I always said that if Sunshine were a person she would be a very nice person. She was a medium-sized white poi dog with brown ears. With my daughter Grace off at college, Sunshine was my best friend and constant companion, never mind that she had been acquired at Graces insistence.

Dont the parents always get the pets when offspring move on in their lives? Of course, what are parents for if not a storage facility for treasures and animals the onward bound cant take with them? Parents can be counted on while young person flies off for new experiences and adventures, knowing with assurance that when they return, home will be as they left it, anchored by the parent person, a rock of stability. So I got left being the sole guardian of the dog. I was the only one to walk the dog, bathe the dog, feed the dog, pick up poop from the dog. I always had to get home to take care of the dog. The dog was hungry, the dog was lonely, whatever. I felt guilty. I couldnt stay long at the pau hana gatherings after work on Friday. I couldnt go directly to dinner in town from the office. I had to drive all the way over the Pali first to let the dog bound joyfully out of the yard for her nightly romp with all the neighbor dogs on the canal bank. Dinner and fresh water came next. Playtime with her friends was her priority, and I will admit I enjoyed the camaraderie of the other neighbor dog owners who let their dogs out as well. Sunshine waited for this special time all day while I was gone and I couldnt deny her. I was beholden to the dog to keep to her routine. My social schedule ranked behind hers. Her needs and wants came first. My dinner dates came second. See what happens when you cant say no? Grace had worked on me, its true, wore me down for years with her constant pleas, but actually I really liked dogs too, so I had finally capitulated, putting on a begrudging air which belied fond memories of a dog left behind by me in like manner (it was payback time) when I took off for far-away places. In my mind I saw adoring looks from a dogs eyes, the feel of soft fur on the hand as it strokes and the gratitude demonstrated by a wet kiss its best to avoid because that tongue has just been licking its hindquarters.